Dear Angel
by Melissa Brandybuck
Summary: A letter to Angel after she died.


**A/N: Yikes! My first RENTfic. I'm submitting this to my school's 'Literary Magazine'. I'd like to hear what y'all think of it, and whether or not you think it'll get in...**

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Dear Angel,

It's been one week since I sat in the front row of the church – one week since I really cried again. I know I can talk to you about it: You were always urging me to speak up and tell you what I was feeling anyways, so it was a shock when you weren't there for me to tell – even though I put up quite a fight with our talks most of the time. It's about two months since the anniversary of the day we met: I still remember the happy look on your face as you danced around the room and sang for us. I still remember how you blew off all your money on the three of us that day – the hangover was excruciating. But it was worth it for you, I guess, to see us happy.

You were always so nice to everybody, and you never hated anyone or got mad at anyone (Except those police-officers the day of Maureen's protest – you are a force not to be meddled with in heels). I always had a problem with grudges. I've hated everybody. I hated Maureen for dumping Mark, I hated Benny for being Benny, and I hated April for leaving me. But I also hated Mark. When I was going through withdrawals and dying to get a fix, he'd try to stop me even though he was less than half my size. And I hurt him, just for some powder that made me feel better for twenty goddamned minutes. He was just trying to help, and I hated him and hurt him anyways. But Mark's forgiven me, I bet. Good old Mark with his stupid camera. But I don't know if I can forgive myself. Do you forgive me, Angel? Do you think I should be forgiven? Do you think I deserve it? Oh God, now I'm crying…the ink's smudging a little…What do you say to that? What would you say to comfort me? I know Mark will be in here soon and stick his godforsaken camera in my face. 'Zoom in on Roger, who's actually crying' or something equally idiotic. Sometimes I wonder if he's more attached to reality, his life and his friends or his camera.

More tears. Angel honey, you've really torn us up. Mimi I haven't seen for the past few days, Mark is even more wrapped up in camera-world, Maureen is doing some off-off-off Broadway show and is back together with Joanne again, Benny is still Benny, and Collins is as dead as the living can get – but he'll come around, he knows you wouldn't want him to grieve. I wish I could stop grieving. There's a part of me April took when she left, and there's a part of me you took when you left.

Ugh, my beeper just went off. It's strange that Mark isn't back yet…the loft feels empty without him. Or you. I'll never forget how Mark used to beg us to play together: You on your drums and me on my guitar. We'd play so loud the neighbors from down the street would complain. Then when Benny would start calling and telling us to shut up, we'd stop and you'd dance for us. From here I can see the spot you used to dance in now: It's really empty and ugly without you spinning around in your colorful clothes.

Oh, Mark's home now. His boss is requesting him to do longer hours, and Mark is pretty easily pushed around. He's treated like dirt there, and I wish I could help him – but I have my own job to handle: I play for a band at this club now, and it pays just enough to cover a few expenses. Which Mark insists on paying. And I can hear him rummaging around outside my room and sighing. "Have you taken your AZT, Roger?" Mark's asking for the millionth time since I've known him. Don't worry Angel, I will. I'll take care of myself, and I hope Mark can take care of himself. He's thin enough as it is, and doesn't really eat. I don't know what to do. He could take care of me, but I can't take care of him. It doesn't feel right. I wish you were here Angel – we all do. You held us together, and I think Collins saw that. You're really something, Schunard. And I wish – we wish – that the trip to the church hadn't been to honor you, and to acknowledge your place with the angels. And that's what you are, you know. An Angel.

- Roger

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A/N: I've edited it into paragraphs, now. Thanks for the reviews!**


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